


CC The Berry Witch

by FruitFrakker



Category: Code Geass
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kink, One Shot, Romance, blueberry inflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitFrakker/pseuds/FruitFrakker
Summary: CC indulges Lelouch's berry kink, much to her amusement. Blueberry Transformation Kink Fic. First Person, Present Tense. Lulu x CC. One shot. Really hope I captured CC's personality with this one.
Relationships: C.C./Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	CC The Berry Witch

You know, when I told Lelouch I would indulge any of his nonsense, I did not particularly have this in mind. My mistake for underestimating the foolishness of mortals, I suppose. Now the boy presses his finger into my pudgy cheek, gawking in slack-jawed wonder at this absurdity I’ve become. Lulu get’s what he wants, and now is dumbstruck with what to do with it; how annoyingly predictable. I’m still chewing the gum though, which is odd as it has lost all flavor now. Perhaps it is because he said it looked cute and I wish to indulge him, but really there could be no reason at all. Not much more I can do either way.

Truthfully I do not know what I exactly look like, besides big, blue and apparently round. It’s been a good minute or so since I was last able to crane my head over my shoulder to look at my expanded rear—something Lelouch also was sure to take advantage of—and now I can barely see over the curve of the blue flesh that surrounds my head, let alone the ridiculous bosom this transformation has given me. I’m not really appreciating the way Lelouch’s hand is stroking it either, the flesh is… sensitive through the tight fabric, and they tend to leak at the slightest sensation. But who am I to interrupt an Emperor’s reverie?

It’s a wonder I’m halfway decent at all—or at least I suppose I am, my hotpants could have burst off for all I know, it is a bit of a blur of sensations at the moment. I feel my top and ornate coat stretched across my chest (how could I not) and can feel the coattails shift against my back with each slight push that inquisitive boy gives me. The sash on the front of the dress is long gone—I’d watched it burst from my bulging belly and slap Lelouch across the cheek, which at least made me smile—and the boots and detached sleeves had splintered; peeled like a banana by my growth, which saw my limbs thicken into oblivion+. It was interesting, seeing the limits of Britannian seamstresses, and it’s not as if _I_ had any personal attachment to the clothes, but all the same it is a peculiar feeling to reach out with my fingertips, trapped as they are in recessed divots of flesh, and feel the tattered remnants of an outfit that once fit you perfectly. Another discarded persona; being Lelouch’s witch apparently was not good enough for him.

Frankly it’s a bit hard to grasp the appeal. The breasts I understand, he is a teenaged male after all. But is this truly his aesthetic ideal of beauty: a big blue ball? It is if he has the desires of a toddler. Though I suppose all desires have their roots in naissance, in one way or another. He claims, as much as he can mutter in his rather flustered state, that I am no mere ball; that the gum he had Lloyd concoct has transformed me into a blueberry. It’s not that I do not believe him; the gum tasted of berries and I do have a certain bittersweet fragrance now, rather overpowering honestly. It just raises more questions than it answers; does he find _all_ fruit erotic? Should I be checking melons for suspicious holes? He of course reacted poorly to this line of questioning, and decided not to pursue it further. The fancies of those fortunate to die are beyond my understanding.

Now, is it entirely unpleasant? I wouldn’t necessarily say that. The sensation of growth, even with forewarning, was a bit of a surprise, but it’s not entirely like a feeling of unpleasant fulness or indigestion. It was more, how should I put it, like a warm heaviness that grew to fill my entire body. There was the gurgling and sloshing of juices within me, but it was never upsetting; I suppose it was as if my innards were being massaged. The only real pain I experienced was mostly from my clothes unwillingness to part from my body, but even that tightness was appreciated to a certain extent. I’ll admit there is a bit of tightness, but the body is apparently rather elastic. And with every sway or touch I gurgle somewhat, it’s rather peaceful all told. I do not understand being _into_ blueberries, but _being_ a blueberry does have its perks.

Of course, it’s no difference to me whether I take the form of a blueberry or human girl, really. Not having limbs is a bit of a hindrance but I suppose I’ll manage, if Lulu’s support is at least somewhat adequate. I can hardly say this is the worst situation I’ve been in either. I do have to wonder if Lelouch has entirely thought this through. It would be rather the encumbrance to lug your most trusted confidant across the battlefield as a giant immobile blob. But this isn’t the time to be concerned about logistics; Lelouch is still enjoying himself. Even with me in this state I feel he is the sillier one, dressed up in his imperial regalia with a blush on his cheeks as he runs his fingers through my still thankfully emerald hair. That he even worked up the nerve to so impudently suggest I submit to this mockery, I must say I’m impressed. Though I think even as a large piece of fruit I still intimidate him; I noticed him remove his hand from my tit when I gave the slightest of scowls. As I said before, he has me helplessly at his mercy and now has no clue what to do. But it’s no matter really, he can take his time. I’m only here to assist after all, as much as the feeling of his fingertip across my plump lips reminds me I could have so much more.

Still, a suggestion or two couldn’t hurt move things along, and I’m curious what being a ‘blueberry’ really entails. I suggest to him that he try rolling me across the room, as I am a sphere after all, and he had mentioned it as the fate of the girl in that film that sparked this queer obsession.

‘R-roll?’

I giggle. I don’t quite get the issue, is it a matter of intimacy? He certainly had no issues tipping me over to caress my face, or ‘examining’ me during my growth. Or perhaps he isn’t strong enough to push me. I know Lelouch is not at all athletic, and my weight has certainly increased exponentially over the past few minutes. I admit to him my bulk may be too much for him to handle, though if he cannot move one ‘blueberry girl’, how could he possibly move the world?

My silly words seem to get to him, and I smirk as he sighs, watching him disappear from my view as he approaches my side. I feel his fingers push into my plush flesh, sloshing now reverberating through my body. I hear him grunt and groan as he presses his weight against me… and not much than a little rocking occurs. My smile soon sours, is this really the best he has?

He huffs and puffs and finally the world begins to shift, strands of hair falling across my face as the horizon tilts away; my innards gurgling and churning as I spin. I’m perpendicular to the ground when the rotating stops, and I glance over my bulk at the panting boy-emperor resting against my side. A glance is all that’s needed to give him a second wind, and now I’m tumbling forward once more, the juices or whatever within me circulating and buzzing. I reckon I should be nauseous, the world twirling about me as a blur as I pick up speed, but I feel rather… not quite euphoric, but a profound sense of ease. Though my ridiculous breasts smacking the floor every rotation is not the most comforting sensation. More than anything, having Lelouch actually put in effort for me is enjoyment enough on its own. I pick up enough speed to roll on my own after a couple of spins, too fast for the beleaguered boy to keep up. Twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom… but there’s no real escape for me. Certainly not with a wall in the way, which I smash against with significant force; I think I hear a portrait shatter against the floor. I hear Lelouch panting as he approaches my sloshing body, a worried look on his face as he comes into view. So gentlemanly to show concern for the woman he has just mutilated, I say.

His face is almost purple at this point as he mutters some drivel about not wanting to see me hurt; the sentiment is nice, but we’re far past that point now, are we? I’ve lived as a witch for some 700 years, there’s precious little he could do to harm me. I grow weary of his concern and ask if there were other things he wished to do with a blueberry like me.

‘Well,’ he stutters, seemingly avoiding the idea at the top of his list. ‘In the movie, there was a song about how she… she deserved what happened to her.’

Then sing one about me, I say. Sing about how I deserved to be a useless, fat blueberry. Oh how I do love seeing this silly boy squirm.

‘Uh… I can try, I guess…

_C-Cee-Two, Cee-Two,_

_Look at you… now large and blue…_

_You deserve to be so big_

_B-because you were such a greedy pig.’_

I sigh, rolling my eyes. I guess that will have to suffice, I say. He really has to think these things ahead. Now, I ask him if he would be so kind as to feed his ‘greedy pig’, adding a glance at a nearby pizza box for good measure. Like a good, emasculated boy Lelouch scurries over to the table, and a moment later the tip of a gooey cheese pizza slice hangs before my lips. I open my mouth, the boy slides it inside, and I bite, hard, savoring the stringy cheese as he draws it back and I begin to cheese. Yes, pizza still tastes good even as a blueberry, better perhaps, as my own fruity overtones add a spice to the flavor profile. At the end of the day it’s the simple pleasures that get me through the day, and I suppose, beneath all the artifice, the same is true for Lelouch.

As I’m helpfully fed more bites, I let my mind wanders slightly, about what this all entails. At some point he’d mentioned there being a way to reverse this, but I hadn’t pressed him on it and I have to wonder if he even intends to turn me back. If this is my new lot in light, I would prefer he take advantage of me more thoroughly than he is presently. After everything he’s been through he still doesn’t know how to speak to women. All things considered though—I take another bite—I’m enjoying what I have.


End file.
